talk to me
by superscrewed
Summary: Lance was seemingly perfect. He had good grades, he was popular, he was a cheerleader. Keith was troubled. He never knew his mom and his dad was never home. He was close to dropping out and was barely hanging onto his life by a thread. But behind closed doors, people can change. A world in which people can hear and communicate w/ their soulmate telepathically at a certain age


Lance's longboard bumped up onto the sidewalk with ease as he arrived back at home. It wearily travelled up the long driveway before he had kicked it up. His breathing was heavy and he held slight weight on his back from his school things.

He stayed out for a while after school, not wanting to go home after something had happened earlier that day.

He heard his soulmate for the first time.

It was the communication link thing, where you could talk to your soulmate telepathically. You never know when its going to happen. Some people had heard theirs when they were children. Others heard theirs well into their thirties. It was common to hear it during your teenage years.

Lance knew about it perfectly well. He just didn't know that it would screw him over so bad.

It was like a buzzing interference. Radio static, if even. It wasn't even a direct conversation towards him. More like something he wasn't intended to hear but it wasn't bad. Just a simple overheard thing.

He couldn't bring himself to respond at that moment and was torn from the moment he heard it.

He avoided going home, it would be weird. He was never home early anymore. It was rare if he was even home for dinner. So today would be strange, to say the least.

He could here bustling from outside the front door. He felt weighed down. Maybe he could sneak in as usual. No, then they would notice.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside, turning the volume up on his headphones. It was dinnertime at this point and he could feel tension from inside the house. He made his way towards the staircase that was unfortunately right by the kitchen.

He sighed and tried to sneak up, but that could never work. "Lance!" Marco shouted, soon joined by Luis and Alex.

Those were the youngest of the family.

He felt the swarm attack him. The rest of the table was quiet. He took out one headphone and looked over to them.

"Sit with us, baby." His mother called with a faint smile. His father looked awkward and seemed to not want to say anything. His sister looked like she had pain on her face.

She was always the only one awake when he came home. She knew how he came home. Crying, angry, weak. She seemed to be the only one to bother at some points.

"I'll pass." He grumbled and shoved off his brothers and jogged up the stairs. The room went quiet again.

He made his way towards the small and secluded staircase that led up to the attic. He lived in the attic, it seemed better to him. It was spacious and luckily tall enough to fit him. His bed layed in a dark corner, bookshelves and memoirs around. There was a corner dedicated to his skateboards and instruments. There was a recliner in one area and some relatively sized bean bag chairs in one other area. Posters were everywhere along with fairy lights. The windows were shuttered and covered with blackout curtains. He had a simple desk aswell, cluttered with his things.

He threw his bag to the floor and flopped onto his bed. He needed some time to reflect.

On, everything.

His family was probably talking about him again.

He was the oldest of the family, so why wasn't he showing any respect?

He groaned into his pillow and grabbed his laptop. He put on some simple music and decided to just let things play out. Maybe he should try to talk to him.

He needed to get things started, right?

They were soulmates, for gods sake. He wouldn't know how to initiate it much at all. At school, he seemed ultimate.

He was popular. He had plenty of friends. He has a reserved spot on the cheer team, for fucks sake.

He exhaled loudly and let a tear leak out.

In private, he was emotional. He had feelings like someone should. He could flirt his living brains out and keep a serious tone. But right now? That was a different story.

His heart seemed to ache and beg at him to do something. He could leave. Stay out again. Maybe someone could knock some sense into him. There was a party that night, but he didn't exactly know many people there. He only knew that it was happening and that a few people would be there.

He should go. Maybe things would figure themselves out by then.

That's childish. Letting alcohol and drugs do his thinking and crash on some weirdos couch to missed calls from his family wanting to know where he was. He didn't want to go through that pain again.

He just needed to discipline himself. That would work.

He got up from his bed and stalked over to his tiny closet, which was just a window outlook thing that was a good size for such things. He went to the corner and grabbed a brown paper bag, moving it over to a shelf.

He set it down and reached up into a cabinet. He grabbed down a shot glass he had taken from some party. He had quite a collection of those now.

He brought a bottle of whiskey from the bag, setting it on the ledge and moving the bag off to the side. He poured it into the glass, watching it twirl and dance. He put the bottle back down after it filled to the brim.

He held it to his mouth and tossed it back. It had burned, going down easy after a while of practice.

He poured another, to the point he had drank three. He needed to stop, or else he wouldn't be able to contain himself from being reckless.

He capped off the bottle and hid it back in its place, sitting in the recliner.

Now would be as good of time as ever. He closed his eyes and tossed his head back. He could feel the static and low hum of his soulmate in the back of his mind. "Hello?" Lance asked.

It was silent, as he had expected. Maybe they were going to avoid him. Good for them, really if they did. They deserve someone better than him.

He ran a hand through his curly brown hair.

He felt, lost.

His soulmate probably wont answer. Lance didn't need an answer. He just needed reflection. He had lost himself for the thousandth time that night.

He had dug out a cigarette from a jewelry box. He had lit it and practically blew straight through it.

Pathetic, he thought.

He was just a pathetic and sore loser who couldn't compensate for anything. He could die, really. He could most likely be better off that way.

He didn't get much sleep that night. He had been lost in his own mind. He let himself take over. His bad decisions telling him everything he should do. He just didn't listen. But deep down inside, he had taken advice from each and every one of them. Sleep with some guy from a bar. Don't come home tomorrow. Starve. Cut. Hurt the ones he loved. Not physically, but mentally.

There had been simpler times. Now was not one of them.

He found himself startled by the ringing of his alarm clock, shoving him into reality with harsh beeping. He wandered over to it and shut it off, grabbing his clothes for the day.

He shoved on a sweatshirt he borrowed from a football player. It was comforting and was pretty large for him. Which was rare. He added some ripped jeans and a necklace with some words chained up.

Loverboy. Forever in gold.

He got it for his birthday from someone important who wasn't quite here anymore. He went to his vanity and put on a face for himself. He added emphasis to his hair and sprayed his favorite perfume.

It made him smell like cinnamon, some cranberry in there as well. His aunt made it.

He slipped on some socks and put on some old beat up vans. He grabbed his beloved longboard from its holding place and left down the stairs. He propped it up against a wall and put his headphones into his ears.

His sister sat next to him, a sad look. He ignored it and grabbed some breakfast and began to wolf it down. "Lance? What happened to you?" She asked and looked down.

"Nothing. Im fine no matter what you see okay? Go to school. Be a good kid." He sighed and left without eating much. He ran back up to his room and grabbed his backpack. He stepped out of the house with no further warnings or goodbyes.

He kicked his board off and took the long route to school. He could be late, and theres nothing wrong about that.

Who cared if he was late? He had good grades.

He stopped at a gas station and walked inside, his board hanging loosely in his grip. "Morning." He greeted the worker. He made his rounds and grabbed what he desired and paid his due. He took a sip from a thing of tea and took a bite of a donut.

He quickly finished off the donut and drank the tea the rest of the way off to school. He went to his locker and put his things away, walking with sway and waving to those who were out and about now.

He walked into his first period class, taking his seat and not bothering to talk to anyone. Time went by slowly for that first class. He hadn't paid attention since it was an easy concept.

He took his time in the halls and talked to the people he had wanted to. He had to get to his next class unfortunately.

That day had passed in a flash, and he was left with the hours upon hours to hide.

He decided to go to cheer practice that day and get himself back in shape.

Maybe he should join the team again. He found himself in the locker room, sliding his workout shorts on. He added a loose and oversized muscle shirt for excess. He dug out his cheer shoes from the locker and slid them on.

He went out towards the field and waved at the girls, getting tackled by some of them.

The captain didn't notice him, yet.

"Princess!" He yelled and ran over to her. She chuckled and wrapped him in a hug. They may see each other almost every day, but this was no exception.

Their coach was on the sidelines talking to the football coach because unfortunately football practice was today. The actual cheerleaders didn't mind because they could go and talk with the boys during breaks.

He did his arm stretches, squats, and bends before going down into straddle. He leaned every which way to stretch himself out for the day.

"Okay Ladies! Finish stretching then get ready for warmup!" Their coach called out. A series of grunts came from their area as some girls plopped down and gathered around one another.

To Lance, he felt some sort of happiness again. He missed this. He missed everything. He held a grin through the thorough exercises and took his notes.

He had sat out to watch their new routines aswell, which shouldn't be hard to pick back up.

Soon enough break came and it had aligned with the football players.

"Shirrooooo!" Lance yelled and ran up to the star player, leaping onto his back and wrapping his arms around him.

"Hey Lance! Nice to see you out again!" Shiro chuckled and looked back at Lance. They didn't see eachother much at all anymore. Completely different class schedules.

"I missed you!" Lance giggled and played with Shiros tuft of white hair.

"So did i. It was so weird not seeing you not flipping around with the girls." He smiled and walked around, swinging slightly.

"Need a place to stay tonight? I mean, if your still going around and skipping home nd stuff." Shiro asked and stopped for a moment.

"Yeah. Shit got so much more awkward last night. I came home! During dinner!" Lance laughed, throwing his arms up. Shiro let out an easy chuckle.

"Right. Well meet you after practice, Lance." Shiro set him down as the break time came to an end. In the bleachers, he was being watched intensely.

"Gotta blast!" He called and jogged up towards the guy.

It was Keith. Well, of course he knew that.

"I didn't know you knew THE Lance McClain!" Keith gasped and threw his arms out.

"How didn't you? He is at my house every so often. Has some sort of family issues so he really doesn't go home." Shiro explained and took his spot next to him.

Off in the distance, Lance had convinced the base girls to lift him up and do whatever it was he was doing. He was blowing kisses to everyone. He could hear him scream, 'Bow down to yalls queen!'.

Lance had them turn around, he was facing Shiro. He blew a kiss to him and slapped his ass.

Keith blushed, but Shiro was completely unfazed.

"Shiro I think theres something up." Keith blurted, burying his face in his hands. Shiro looked over and their area went quiet.

Keith took a deep breath and looked up to Shiro. He looked troubled, like something was seriously pushing him to the edge of tears.

"I think that Lance is my soulmate."


End file.
